The Appropriate Discipline
by starhawk2005
Summary: Those maroon stockings of Cameron's, so multi-functional…


**The Appropriate Discipline **

**Author: starhawk2005**

**Summary: Those maroon stockings of Cameron's, so multi-functional…**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, blah blah blah. If I did, we wouldn't have had all that 'new episode, 2 weeks off, new episode on new night, 2 weeks off, new episode, 3 weeks off', crap….  
Beta: As always, many thanks to my talented beta, katakombs.  
Author's Notes: Spoilery for S2. And yes, it's way AU – I'm ignoring HIV!Cam, Stacy, House's problems with increasing pain, AND the fact H/Cam are not an established relationship in S2. Go, me.  
Written in response to the first smut!challenge at the House/Cameron Smut-A-Thon comm..**

She gave him a shove. She'd had it with him.

No matter how much time Allison and House had spent dating – if one could call it that – he _still _managed to exasperate her on a regular basis.

All day, he'd been making lewd remarks about Alex, their fifteen year-old supermodel patient. _"The rounded hips, the perfectly sculpted bountiful breasts…Two clinic hours says that those love apples were hand-crafted by God… Come on Cameron, there's nothing to be ashamed of, many women develop breasts…"._

With every remark, he'd look straight at Allison and give her one of his patented lecherous looks. She was pretty sure he thought that saying such things was going to be some kind of turn-on for her. Strange idea. She didn't know by what logic he thought making inappropriate remarks about an underage patient was going to be arousing to his girlfriend, but it certainly _wasn't _working. It was actually very creepy, in fact. Creepy, and exasperating, and annoying.

So finally, she'd waited until Foreman and Chase were out of the room, and no one else seemed to be watching. No one at PPTH knew they were involved, and both she and House liked it that way. So once she was sure there were no witnesses, that was when she'd turned to House and shoved him in the chest. "Could you stop it, please? If you want to think impure thoughts about our patient, fine, but I don't want to _hear_ them."

He just stared at her for a second, then got a smug look – also very familiar to her, by now – on his face. "Jealous, Allison?" he asked. "Don't worry, I like your breasts just fine. And those stockings are a daring fashion statement. I hear maroon is the new _black_."

She should've known that confronting him was pointless. So she just shook her head and didn't bother to reply. And then left the conference room, trailing after her colleagues. _I'm better off just ignoring him when he gets like this_. _He'll get bored and stop quicker if he can't push my buttons and get the desired response._

She felt like she was betraying House, going behind his back to Cuddy, but she'd had no choice. Child abuse _had_ to be reported, and that was the way it was. Patient confidentiality was void in those situations.

"What do you think House is gonna do to you?" Chase asked her. Honestly, she didn't know. She supposed he might get really angry with her. But she hadn't felt like she had a choice. _Better now, then it get found out later that he – and us – knew about the abuse and did nothing_. And besides, it was the right thing to do. Even House had to recognize that.

Still, when the four of them finally got together in House's office some time later, she couldn't help feeling worried.

He didn't make her wait long, before he made his feelings known. "Cameron, you going to tell Cuddy, or has she already got you wired for sound?" He snarked.

_Here we go_, she thought, pulling out her pre-prepared response. "I had to do what I thought was right."

House didn't really respond to that, but went on talking about grey matter diseases. And Allison felt her anxiety kick up another notch. She remembered House's reaction when Chase had ratted him out to Vogler. Did this have the potential to wreck her relationship – work _and_ personal - with House?

"Am I in trouble?" she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"You had to do what you thought was right." He echoed her sentiment. And then went back to discussing grey matter affairs.

His reaction was still oddly flat, and she was still worried. "So I'm not in trouble." Hating herself the instant the words came out of her mouth. Why couldn't she just let it go?

"You can torture yourself all you want," he said to her. And again went back to the case.

Allison made herself stop. Made herself focus. If he got angry, fine. And if he dumped her because of it, well…then he really wasn't worth it.

A few minutes later, House was shooing them out of the office, telling them he was going to do the 'squeeze the tube' test. Whatever that meant. Except, he told her to wait for a moment, first.

She froze, her back to him. Listening as the familiar cane-thumps sounded behind her. Getting closer. Until he stopped and leaned to her ear. "I lied, Dr. Cameron. You _are _in trouble. Report to my place tonight, once we're done here, where I'll mete out the appropriate _discipline_. Now go, I have important work to do."

Her face was burning – and so was something else, a place that had nothing to do with embarrassment, and everything to do with sexual desire – but she said nothing, just got the heck out of there.

She managed to keep it together until House pronounced them done for the day. They still hadn't figured out what was going on, but Alex didn't seem to be in any immediate danger. So he finally told them to leave.

Allison made it to his place first, using her key (the one he'd unceremoniously tossed to her months ago) to get in, and then perching nervously on the couch, twisting her fingers together. She didn't know exactly what he had planned, but she had some idea. She didn't think for a minute that he'd physically harm her, but it was still a little anxiety-provoking. And arousing. It always was. And now he _really_ had an excuse to punish her, not just some imagined or minor slight that he'd dreamed up just for the purpose.

She sat there, stewing in a combination of anticipation, anxiety, and arousal. An eternity passed, before there came the faint sound of cane-thumps from the other side of the front door. Despite herself, she tensed up even more. She wondered how he'd act this time. Sometimes he was cold, stern, and that always made her feel even more vulnerable, exposed. Other times he was playful, naughty, flirty. Even while administering her 'punishment'. Which House was about to walk through that door? She shifted on his couch, squeezing her thighs together.

The key rattled in the lock, and then he was limping in, awkward and dragging. She almost forgot her nerves, seeing how drawn and tired his face looked. But then he looked up to meet her gaze and _leered_, and she felt those butterflies start up in her stomach again. Oh, he was in one of those moods, alright. She shifted again, aching already between her legs.

He stripped off his coat and blazer, dumping them over a nearby chair. And then he started to move towards her. She didn't know how someone with a cane and a limp could possibly _stalk_, but somehow he still managed it.

House moved right up next to her, towering over her. She kept her gaze on the floor, waiting. She knew this routine very well, by now. They'd acted it out, with variations, countless times. "Someone's been a bad girl**,"** he finally said, amusement in his voice. And she was glad. She didn't think she could handle the stern taskmaster tonight.

She didn't reply. Back-talk would only amuse him more, and probably earn her more 'discipline'. Unless he ordered her to speak, that is. Another rule they'd worked out some time ago. At least in these particular types of situations.

He tapped her knee lightly with his cane. "Get up." She did. Eyes still on the floor. Yes, she knew this game _really_ well by now. "Walk ahead of me into the bedroom. Go stand by the foot of the bed."

She did that, too**. **Once there, she stared ahead of her, eyes on that bedside lamp with the odd orange shade. She heard him move up right behind her, and then felt his hot breath on her ear. "Take off your shoes."

She stepped out of them and pushed them under the bed with one foot. She knew she was trembling, slightly, but the anxiety didn't bother her as much, now, as it had when she'd been alone. How oddly comforting, that House's presence made her feel both nervous and protected, at the same time. _And_ excited. She wanted to feel his hands on her, gentle or rough.

"Now, give me those maroon pantyhose of yours." She didn't contradict him – they were stay-ups, not pantyhose, but again, she wasn't going to risk extra 'discipline' for something as minor as that – just placed one hand on the bed and worked first one, then the other, off. And then she put them in his outstretched hand, her eyes still lowered from his.

"Ah, separate stockings, even better. Now the rest of your clothes. Dump them on the bed, whatever. I don't care." Impatience in his voice, now.

She stripped down quickly. Skirt, blouse, bra, panties. She'd barely dropped the last article on the bed when he leaned in once more, breath heating her skin, making it prickle and tingle. "Give me your wrist."

Allison hadn't expected him to put her maroon hosiery to use as a bondage device. But that was exactly what he was doing, wrapping the soft stretchy material around her wrist and knotting it firmly. She waited while he repeated the operation on the other wrist. She knew her breathing was speeding up, her skin flushing. Just the promise of what he was going to do was enough to make that familiar tingling spread all over her body.

He turned her back to face the footboard of his sleigh bed. The top of the footboard was about level with her hips, the slick wood cool against her heated skin. She waited as he finished carrying out his plans. There was just enough of a 'post' at the top of either end of the footboard, and this was what he used to secure her, tying the free end of one stocking around one post, and then limping to her other side to bind the other arm down, as well.

Once she was secured, he was back behind her, and he leaned to kiss the tender spot just behind and below her ear, stubble rasping against her skin. Then his mouth moved lower, teasing the sensitive side of her neck, and she moaned. She resisted the urge to thrust her ass back against him, not wanting to unbalance him, but at that very moment his arm snaked around her hips and pulled her backwards a half a step, so she was no longer standing up completely straight. He hadn't pulled her against him, though, just further away from the footboard. Probably to keep her from getting thrust uncomfortably against the wood when he started 'meting out the discipline'.

The stockings had a little give. Enough that she was comfortable, but not enough to let her move around much. She was totally at his mercy. And loving every second of it. Which was no doubt part of the reason why he 'punished' her fairly frequently.

She felt a light cane tap on the inside of her right ankle. "Spread them." He ordered. She complied, but he wasn't happy yet. "Wider," he ordered, his voice harsh and edgy in her ear. Again, she did as he asked, all too aware of how wet she already was. But at least this evidence of her arousal ought to please him.

His mouth was back at her ear, stubble and soft lips brushing lightly against her. He leaned the cane against the side of the bed, easily within his reach, and started sliding warm callused hands down her back. She relaxed into his caresses, leaning a little against him.

House chuckled low into her ear. "How many spanks would you say your insubordination merits, Dr. Cameron?"

Just as suddenly, her nerves were back on edge. She knew _this_ game with him, too. If she suggested too few, he'd laugh evilly and double the number. But if she suggested too many, then he'd just say he'd been thinking of a smaller number, but that he'd give her the 'extras' she'd unwittingly 'suggested'. Again, not that she feared harm, but why invite extra swats if she didn't need to?

And just to make things harder – all part of his evil plans, no doubt – one of his hands had already found its way between her legs, sensitive fingers tracing ticklish little designs along the insides of her thighs. She knew she wasn't allowed to close her legs, so she bit off a moan, and tried to focus on his question, as he continued his efforts to distract, to tease.

The dark chuckle vibrated in her ear once more. "Decide quickly, Cameron, or I'll decide for you."

Without warning, the side of his hand slid through her wet folds, knuckles rubbing across her clit, and almost reflexively, she gasped out: "Ten!"

His laugh this time was loud and pure evil. It made her think of mad scientists in horror films. The kind of laugh that told you something exceedingly nasty (naughty) was coming. "Oh, really? Well, it's not actually up to you. I'm going to give you as much discipline as _I _want. Ah, the privileges of rank."

She jumped, then, as his hand connected smartly with her ass. It stung, and she exhaled sharply. And then she took in her next breath, waiting for the next one, feeling the sting change to warmth, feeling the answering throb inside her.

After a pause, he started again, the swats coming in measured intervals this time, distributed evenly across the surface of her ass. She couldn't stay quiet, couldn't hold back the gasps and moans, so it was good that he hadn't ordered her to, as he sometimes did.

She lost count of how many times his hand stung her. Her skin felt like it was on fire**;** she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and she was breathing in great tearing rasps of air. And she was so wet, she expected to feel juices dripping down her legs at any minute. She almost begged him to stop. To stop and just _take_ her. She knew he would, if she asked. That was their deal, too.

But she didn't have to beg him. His hand contacted her again, but this time it was a caress that he was delivering. Light, soothing strokes over flushed, hot skin. She shivered, letting her head slump forward, enjoying it. He massaged some of the ache out of her flesh, and then dropped his hand lower, brushing his knuckles up the inside of her thigh.

But he didn't continue. Instead, he moved away from her side – she missed his warmth, his proximity, almost immediately – and snagged his cane, hobbling slowly over to his nighttable. _It's over,_ she thought. He was going for the condoms. He'd probably strip down, and then take her right here, hard and fast against the footboard of the bed. Exactly what she craved. What she _needed_.

She closed her eyes, the better to savour the sensations running through her, as he rummaged in the nighttable drawer. The cool wood against her skin. The stretchy stockings still pinning her arms down. The tingling warmth of her ass. The damp throb between her legs. She could hear House breathing, hear the rustle of his clothes as he slowly undressed. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. This was still familiar territory, often explored.

Allison listened to the familiar broken shuffle of his steps and the thump of the cane, as he moved back behind her. Large hands wrapping around her hips and pulling her towards him.

But she didn't get what she'd bargained for. There wasn't the pressure of him pushing hard inside her. There was only a renewal of the sting, as he brought his hand sharply down on her ass again. She jumped once more and moaned, already-tender skin reacting even more strongly than before. He spanked again, laughing low and evil in her ear, and she twisted her wrists against the stockings, getting pushed closer and closer to her limit. About to ask – beg – him to stop.

It was only those two blows, though, scorching her skin with renewed heat. And then she felt his fingertips moving down and nestling into her folds. And, as always, the pleasure-pain of the whole process had aroused her beyond belief. She could tell it just by how slick and wet she was against her lover's hand. She groaned, thrusting herself back, as he slid curious fingers inside her, his chuckle sounding in her ears.

House's free hand curled around her hip, and _now_ she was certain that any second he'd pull those teasing fingers out of her, that she'd feel his hand, wet with her arousal, dig into her other hip, before he thrust solidly inside her…

He did remove his fingers, but for a few moments there were only these obscene slurping noises behind her, and she knew he was sucking and licking her desire off of his hand.

But again, he didn't get inside her, not like she'd predicted. Instead, he struck her again, two more hard spanks, one on each side, as she gasped. But pleasure was mixed with pain once again, as his hand was back between her legs once more, this time only entering her shallowly, teasing around the entrance to her body.

It went on that way for a while. He'd spank her, two hard blows that made her feel like her flesh was on fire. And then he'd soothe the burn by exploring the sensitive landscape between her legs. Once, he focused on just her inner lips, stroking and tugging lightly. The next time, he was inside her again, exploring her quivering tunnel while she clenched around his fingers. Another time, his goal was her aching clit, pressing and rubbing while she squirmed and writhed against him. And each time, he'd remove his hand and greedily consume her flavours, cleaning her from his hands. And then start spanking her again.

Finally, she could take no more. "House, please," she whispered, shuddering as he teased her mercilessly. "I _need_ you…".

"Well," he said, sounding amused, "why didn't you say so earlier?"

And _now_ his hands wrapped around her hips. Now there was the welcome heat and pressure of him thrusting sharply inside her. The handle of his cane pressed almost painfully between his hand and her hip, but she didn't mind.

It was _sensual_, even. Coolness, both of the cane-handle pressed into her flesh, the wood of the footboard against her. And added to this, the pleasure of his bare flesh on hers, friction, the tickle of his pubic hairs against the pulsing skin of her ass, even of the hairs on his legs against hers. She gripped the footboard tightly for leverage, pushing back against his slow thrusts, gasping.

He was kissing his way slowly down her spine, spacing his kisses between each lazy thrust, and she shivered at the prickle of his stubble. Oh God, she was _so_ close.

"Please," she begged again, her throat dry and tight. She knew he was perfectly capable of this slow pace, of keeping her on the edge for quite some time. And she also knew that she would probably start screaming in frustration if he didn't start to move _faster_.

House didn't disappoint her. He bit gently into her shoulder – there'd be marks later, but they wouldn't last the night, she knew – his rushing breaths branding her skin, and he moved more aggressively, pumping in and out of her faster and faster.

Legs shaking, she came hard, holding onto the footboard. Feeling House's fingers and the cane handle dig into her almost painfully as he thrust on, reaching his own climax after a few more delicious moments.

She leaned against the bed, trying to stay on her feet, as House slowly pulled out of her, breathing heavily himself. She closed her eyes and let her head slump once more.

House hobbled slowly to her side. She felt his hands at her wrist, trying to undo the knots he'd made earlier. A few moments passed, but she still wasn't free, and he cursed in a low voice. She opened her eyes, watching him struggle to release her. "Is it OK if I _cut_ you loose, Allison?" he finally asked.

Inwardly, she grinned. "Only if you buy me a replacement pair, Greg."

He pulled one of his patented exaggerated faces, but she knew his annoyance was all an act. "_Okaaaay_. Geez, you're _demanding_."

A few snips of the scissors later, and she was finally free. She let him draw her to the bed so they could lie down and rest for awhile, wriggling a little against him as his hands cupped her ass, gently massaging. She'd be fine by tomorrow, but for now, she was still a bit sore. So she wasn't going to say no to his attention.

Still, something was bothering her. He wouldn't have 'played' with her if he'd really been angry, but – "So, should I take this to mean that you're _not_ angry with me?"

A knowing sigh whispered through his chest, right under her ear. "You had to do what you thought was right," hesaid, repeating his words – and hers – from earlier. A pause. "Better this way, anyways. If _you're_ the one that squealed, I can keep my rapport with the father, if I need him. I'm not the one that ratted him out. I'll even promise him that I won't share any more info with my yappy subordinates."

She smiled. "Liar."

"Just like everyone else. Why should _you_ guys get all the fun?"

Allison just shook her head. Best not to answer that.

But he wasn't done. "I'm not lying about _this_, though." he said, in a quiet voice.

She knew instantly what he meant. This. _Them_. She stretched up and kissed him. She knew better than to try to reply, that would just embarrass him.

True to form, House got out of 'mushy-mode' at near-blinding speed. "So, shall I order in Chinese? Being a disciplinarian is hard work for us grizzled old cripples, you know."

Allison laughed, shaking her head. "Only if you don't steal my fortune cookie this time."

He looked affronted. "I most certainly did _not_ steal it, Allison. I was just…_borrowing_ it."

She locked gazes with him, giving him her best 'yeah, _right_' look. She got plenty of opportunity to practice it , being involved with someone like Gregory House.

After a few moments, he finally gave a long-suffering sigh (faked) and rolled his eyes. "Oh, al_right_. See how good I am to you?"

She didn't bother to reply to that, either. Just kissed him again.


End file.
